


Circles in the Sands of Time

by Cat_Moon



Series: 101 Resurrections of Ianto Jones [2]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 21:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19753933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Moon/pseuds/Cat_Moon
Summary: Sometimes the smallest gesture can have unimagined consequences.





	1. History Repeats Itself

**Author's Note:**

> When I started this story, I had no intention of it being a “fix-it” but well, things just kinda happened… So the second chapter ended up going in a totally different direction. I guess I couldn’t help myself. I make no apologies. Written in 2009.

_Let me go from this lonely land_

_Before my dreams all vanish like water in the sand_

_Let me run from this lonely place_

_Before my dreams are shattered by a love I can’t erase…_

\--Battles, Axe

Earth, July 2109:

“Are you all right, mate?!”

When Jack gasped to life, the first thing he noticed was concerned blue eyes peering down at him. They reminded him of something, but he couldn’t remember what. “I’m…fine,” he said, allowing the man to help him to his feet. “Thanks,” he added. He had in fact, just died, in a dirty back alley in one of the rougher parts of town. Déjà vu. He’d been there so often it almost felt like home. Well, not here specifically, but when you’ve died in one alley you’ve died in them all.

“For a minute there, I thought you were, well, dead…” the man said and Jack saw his throat muscles work as he swallowed anxiously. “Do you need a doctor? A PC?”

Jack shook his head. “Maybe a drink would be good.”

“There’s a pub right down the street,” the man said with a jerk of thumb. He gave Jack an intense gaze, possibly wondering if he was really all right, then turned and started in the direction of the pub.

Jack scrambled to his feet to follow the stranger, although he wasn't sure why. “I’m Jack, by the way."

“Aeron,” the man replied, offering his hand.

Jack felt a warm jolt of…something at the contact. He studied Aeron with curiosity as they continued on in silence. He’d expected to be bombarded by questions, what was he doing there, what had happened. Aeron didn’t seem inclined to make small talk. _Ah, the strong and silent type._ Jack grinned to himself. He really hadn’t intended to pick up a good looking stranger but if this one intended to accompany him into the pub he decided he’d have no objection.

“Let me buy you a pint,” Jack told him. “Least I can do to repay you for your concern for my welfare.”

Aeron gave him another one of those disconcerting gazes and nodded. It made him both intrigued and oddly uncomfortable at the same time. He had a feeling it was going to be an interesting night.

XXX

Jack didn’t spend much time on earth these days, hadn’t since… in a very long time. It was funny though, how so little had actually changed in one hundred years. Not the outward obvious things. Oh, the technology was far advanced, but really, compared what he was used to it even seemed rather primitive. The mix of old and new around him was heart-rending. The bar was old, probably a landmark although he couldn’t remember ever being there. Sometimes Jack wondered how _much_ he’d forgotten over the long centuries. The thought terrified him. He shook his head, physically trying to shake off the melancholy mood that had hit out of nowhere. What was he doing moping when the night was young and he was having a drink with a beautiful young Welsh--.

When he looked up from his drink, Aeron was staring at him again.

“You’re Welsh.”

“What gave it away?” Aeron said, smiling slightly, teasingly.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve uh, been here, but I recognize the accent.”

Jack was getting some mixed signals. He wasn’t sure if it was _that_ kind of interest, or something more benign. Most people tended to be attracted to him, no matter what their sexual orientation, but he wasn’t sure he was in the mood to coach a first timer tonight. Unfortunately, humans still had a long way to go before they learned to stop labeling themselves.

“And you’re American,” Aeron said, but instead of a question or statement, it almost sounded like a challenge.

“Something like that.” He affixed his best flirty smile to his face. “I hope you like Americans.” Was that the hint of a blush? It’d been a long time since he’d seen one of those. He grinned wider, leaning back with his arm across the top of the booth. A relaxed yet in control pose, with just a hint of predatory interest to spice things up.

Aeron leaned forward, propping his chin in his hand with an elbow on the table. Looking at him. Looking _into_ him. Jack’s cool veneer dropped away and he had the oddest feeling that he could drown in those eyes. “What’s your last name, Jack?”

“H-Harkness. Jack Harkness.”

A blink, meaning in the expression that he couldn’t interpret, before a slow, almost shy smile spread over Aeron’s face. Something in Jack’s gut twisted at the sight, but he didn’t understand why. “Nice to meet you, Harkness, Jack Harkness. Aeron Jones.”

Jack's heart literally stopped for two beats, then plummeted into his stomach. “I knew a Jones once,” he whispered. Suddenly the years dropped away and all the memories came rushing back as if it was yesterday. Those blue eyes stared into his with an intensity that took his breath away, obliterating the caution he should have been feeling.

Aeron gestured to him with a nod. “Do you still have the coat?”

“Who are you?!” he demanded harshly.

“I’ve been waiting for you for a long time. Wondered if you’d even be back this century.”

It was crazy. It sounded like himself so long ago, waiting for the Doctor. He grabbed the arm on the table hard enough to leave a bruise. “Tell me who you are!”

“My father’s name was Samuel Davies,” Aeron began in a formal tone, not reacting at all to the violence. “I changed my last name when he… went away,” he said, not explaining further. “My grandfather was Leuan. His father was named David Davies. And David’s uncle was…”

“Ianto.” The word was barely more than a breath on his lips.

Aeron inclined his head in a nod.

“I don’t understand. How do you know me?”

“I found it. _I'm_ the one who found it,” Jones said with sudden vehemence.

“Found what?!”

“The journals he kept.”

Jack paused with his drink halfway to his lips, and then completed the motion; draining it in one swallow and putting the glass carefully back down on the table. “Impossible,” he said shortly. The Hub and everything in it had been blown up, and all the personal effects at his flat were… forgotten, under lock and key next to Owen’s. Jack desperately wanted another drink, but was unwilling to pause the conversation long enough to order one.

“We had a class project on Genealogy one year. Tracing my family back, there was a man who had died young, but there was next to no public record information on him. Family legend told he had died a hero.”

“He did,” Jack responded automatically, his voice like gravel.

“I found the whole project boring, until this mystery man popped up. Then I set out to learn everything about him.”

“You’re lying,” Jack told him, although it hurt to say. “There were no diaries,” he bluffed. There was no way Aeron could have found anything like that. He didn’t want to play rough with this man. He wanted to take him in his arms and kiss away the pain he could feel radiating from both of them. He had no idea what Aeron’s was borne from, but he knew his own too well.

“I found them in the storage area.”

Jack gaped at him, forgetting all about his vague plan not to reveal too much. “How could you know about that?”

Aeron smiled, and Jack could now recognize the family resemblance. It was Ianto’s smile. “The computer network I can’t hack into, can’t _be_ hacked,” he said with a touch of pride.

“You hacked into—“

“Torchwood,” Aeron finished with a grin. “By the way, they don’t want to give me a job; do you think you could put in a good word for me?”

Jack stared at him speechless for long moments, then finally found his voice. “Oh sure, I’ll tell them the man has access to all your classified data already, you may as well hire him on.” He wasn’t quite sure whether he meant the words sarcastically, humorously, or seriously. “What is it about you Joneses?,” he asked in exasperation.

“Genius runs in the family?”

Jack couldn’t help but laugh. Then he sobered. “Why were you waiting for me?”

The smile dropped from the boy’s face and he gazed at Jack with such longing that he felt all his defenses crumbling. He was insane. It was a terrible idea, probably for about a million reasons.

He stood and tossed some money on the table to cover the drinks, holding out his hand to Aeron Jones.

XXX 

_I search to find the meaning of the path I am on And I’ll hope that my direction will not make me walk alone I stumble for the answers to the questions that remain Around the world I’ve touched the sun and now I’m back again…_

Jack lay on his back in the bed, staring at the ceiling. Aeron was on his side next to him, head propped in his hand as he gazed at Jack in that disconcerting way of his. He wished he’d turned off the light… but he hadn’t wanted to be tempted to pretend, even for a second... It wouldn’t be fair to this boy who’d waited for him so long. This man who knew things he shouldn’t know. Knew Jack’s soul when Jack had never set eyes on him before. Because he’d read Ianto’s hopes and dreams and fears, and most of them had revolved around Jack Harkness.

He wanted to close his ears to the voice speaking quietly to him, but he couldn’t bear to give up hearing the soft Welsh accent that brought with it so many memories. The surprising comfort it brought was a rare gift, and he didn’t get too many of those.

“Human beings are desperate for our pathetic, short lives to mean something. We raise families and delude ourselves into thinking that gives us some kind of immortality -- but it doesn’t. A mere century after we’re gone, unless some kid gets a school assignment, no one knows we ever existed.” Aeron traced Jack’s jaw with one finger. “ _You_ give us immortality, Jack,” he said vehemently. “Because you _knew_ us, remember us, because you love us. We live on inside of you, forever. In here,” he tapped his finger to Jack’s forehead. “And even if time fades the memories, always in here,” he whispered, placing a warm hand over Jack’s heart. “You take us with you into immortality.”

Jack rolled over and kissed him passionately to staunch the flow of words.

XXX

Like a tiny pebble tossed into a lake, the ripples in time from even the smallest act can spread out ever wider, causing unimagined alterations in the past. Every time agent knows this. Yet, in the end, we all make mistakes. Poor judgments. Rash decisions. Some are huge regrets that crush our spirits and haunt our nightmares if we don’t find a way to forgive ourselves for them. Others… we can’t bring ourselves to feel guilt over, no matter how wrong. The hardest of all to resist are those that are made out of an unselfish love, those we do for others not ourselves. Who decides which the worst of the sins is?


	2. The Carousel of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The meeting with Aaron had a profound effect on Jack, one that eventually caused him to do something... Closure. It was supposed to be closure, but turned into so much more...

_ Oh, baby, anywhere you go  _   
_ We are bound together  _   
_ I begin, baby, where you end  _   
_Some things are forever_

\--Circles in the Sand

The most unstable factor in the universe is human beings. They are unpredictable.

Earth, July 2009:

Ianto Jones gulped down the last of his coffee as he tapped a finger impatiently against his watch, waiting for Jack to finish dressing and join him.

They were going to be late. Again. Actually, it made the usually uber punctual Ianto smile every time he thought about it. Gone were the days when Jack Harkness lived exclusively at the Hub. It was getting to be more often than not, the nights were spent together at Ianto’s flat. He could get used to that. He wouldn’t even mind the tardiness, except for the knowing smirk Gwen leveled on them every time she arrived before they did. Then Jack would grin lasciviously and wink at her and Ianto would blush despite himself... which would only make Jack grin wider. The man was incorrigible. And that irritated him, because god knew after all this time with Captain Jack Harkness, Ianto should have been over the blushing stage long ago.

While he was waiting for his tardy lover (probably dallying on purpose because Ianto had refused to shower together on the grounds it would make them _really_ late), he scooped up the envelopes that he’d tossed hastily on the hall table last night... while too busy trying to suck Jack’s tongue out of his mouth and get him naked to care about the post. Flipping through them, he automatically separated into piles according to importance.

A package boldly had the return address of London Sex Shoppes stamped in the corner. “What did you buy _this_ time, Jack,” Ianto muttered, glancing towards the bathroom with equal parts irritation and anticipation. “Absolutely incorrigible.” And totally unrepentant. Ianto had a feeling he wouldn’t want it any other way.

A letter from a lawyer’s office in Cardiff caught his eye and he pulled it out to frown at it. He’d heard of the firm but had no business with them, so he was puzzled as to why they’d be contacting him. Tearing it open, he found another envelope inside, this one with just his name printed on it. In very familiar handwriting.

Chilled for no reason he could put his finger on, Ianto opened this one with hands that shook just a little. There were only a few lines on the single piece of paper inside.

**July 9, 3009**

**I remember you.**

**Forever, Jack**

“Anything important?”

Ianto jumped at the sudden voice behind him, quickly stuffing the piece of paper into his suit pocket. “Just adverts. Oh, and this…” he waved the package from the “toy” shop in front of Jack to distract him.

“It’s a surprise,” Jack told him with a suggestive raise of eyebrow. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Ianto thought he might be starting to dislike surprises. On the way out the door, he crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it into the bin.

XXX

Ianto had been distracted all day, moody, well, moodier than usual. If Jack didn’t know better he’d say his lover had been preoccupied ever since they left for work three days ago, although he had no idea what was causing it. There was an air of sad desperation about him. With the tension between them due to all the secrets he kept, he didn’t feel he had a right to say anything about Ianto’s. It seemed everything was hitting at once. Ghosts from the past, possible end of the world, again, and those little relationship bumps all couples go through. All he could think to do was give them each their space to work things through.

Jack had hopes that things were turning around when they made the united decision to stop running and hiding and _be_ Torchwood, go see the 456 themselves. Determined not to let these aliens extort any more children of earth.

And that’s when the future changed.

As they walked up to Thames House, Ianto stopped abruptly, putting a hand on Jack’s arm. Jack gave him an inquiring look.

“I think… I should wait out here and follow you in later.”

It was so unlike anything Jack was expecting that he gave him a long, assessing look before speaking. “Why?”

“What if they arrest you on sight? We know better than to trust them. Someone has to be free to confront the 456 in that case. And organize a jail break,” Ianto added with a slight grin that didn’t meet his eyes. “Again.”

It made sense. Still, Jack couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else going on, something Ianto wasn’t telling him. In the end though, he simply nodded. Because suddenly, he realized it would be a relief. The “plan” wasn’t a plan at all, just a last ditch desperate attempt to save the children. He didn’t know the parameters of what the 456 were capable of, he was just winging it. He had no idea what was going to happen inside. And _he_ was the one who couldn’t die. None of his team should have to take this risk. It was his mess to fix, his mistake to atone for. He should go in alone.

Then Ianto was grabbing Jack and kissing him right there on the steps, like Jack had kissed him before sending him up out of the Hub to safety.

“Don’t do anything stupid out here,” Jack joked.

“Don’t you do anything stupid in _there_ ,” Ianto countered.

“Who, me?” he asked jauntily, giving that trademark Jack Harkness grin before bounding up the rest of the steps and going inside.

XXX

Everything had gone to hell.

Ianto sat, his head in his hands. He couldn’t seem to stop shaking, and he felt ill.

“What have I done?” he whispered to himself.

The 456 had released a poison gas, killing everyone in the entire building. And Ianto would have been in there with Jack. If not for the strange note. He’d thought about it all week, gone round and round in his head trying to figure it out. Jack of the future had arranged for it to be delivered to him, and it was dated exactly one thousand years in the future. If he hadn’t seen it, he would have gone inside Thames House too.

All those people were dead. He would have been among them. Was he supposed to be dead? Did he deserve to live while so many perished with no chance?

Ianto rubbed a hand over his face. He’d finally figured out the significance of the message. Jack had wanted him to know that he did remember him… to know before he died. It wasn’t like Ianto hadn’t thought about dying, many times. The odds were against him, and he didn’t kid himself otherwise. And so he knew that’s what he would say if he was dying: don’t forget me. And the only way for Jack to know that…was if he’d died.

Ianto held his hand over his mouth, fighting down the urge to be sick. Everything he needed to put the pieces together was there, but he didn’t believe Jack had purposely sought to alter the past. Jack knew better than anyone how dangerous that was, how wrong, and if he _had_ he certainly wouldn’t have waited a thousand years to do it. He’d only wanted Ianto to have some peace before he died.

And that left the blame squarely with Ianto.

Because he hadn't known how, or where, or why, but he knew he was going to die. Today. He could have let it happened, but as he’d walked up to Thames House he was struck with a foreboding so strong it stopped him in his tracks. And he’d made his decision. He told himself he was doing it for Jack. Jack needed him. That had been his mantra even before, before they’d become a…a couple. He told himself he was doing it for the Earth. Torchwood couldn’t afford to lose yet another team member if they were going to fight both a powerful alien _and_ their own government. But in the end, he knew there was another reason, one much more simple and selfish.

He didn’t want to die.

“Forgive me…” he whispered.

He would receive no forgiveness this time though, because Jack would never know. Of all the guilt Jack carried for the devastating decisions he’d had to make, the pain that he lived with through endless centuries, the untold number of deaths he felt responsible for… Ianto could spare him this one. This burden he would carry himself.

For Jack.

Pulling himself together with a deep breath, Ianto got to his feet, glancing around to be sure he was still unobserved in his hiding place. There would be plenty of time for self recrimination later, right now he had a job to do and plans to make. Jack would no doubt be arrested when he came back to life, and he didn’t know what was happening on Gwen’s end, and they still had the 456 to defeat.

When the world was ending, Torchwood carried on.

_And the seasons they go around and round And the painted ponies go up and down We're captive on the carousel of time We can't return we can only look Behind from where we came And go round and round and round in the circle game_

Circles in the Sand, written by Nowels, performed by Belinda Carlisle

The Circle Game, Joni Mitchell

**The end**

9/8/09

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor rant that I wrote in 2009 when I originally wrote this story: I don’t totally disagree about what happened in CoE. I sorta understand why Stephen had to die and it would cheapen it if he was saved somehow in canon. His death was a sacrifice for the greater good. His life given to save all those children and stop an evil alien (who probably would have been back again eventually for their next fix) -- and it showed the difference between Jack and all those politicians who had agreed that none of THEIR children would be taken. Unlike them Jack was willing to sacrifice his own grandson. Beautifully poignant and heroic.  
> Yes, he caused his grandson’s death and took his daughter’s only son away. Horrible decision to have to make. But it was a totally unselfish act to save thousands of other parents from losing theirs. Confronting the 456 with only a couple of guns, having no idea what they’re capable of, no plan, and just basically threatening them. STUPID. Irresponsible. It’s his fault all those others in the building died too. And I think he did it because he wanted to be the big hero Jack Harkness. Ianto (and if memory serves also Gwen, I only watched it once) was expecting it, he wanted to live up to that hero image of himself they had of him. They expected it of him.. And that’s why, to me Ianto’s death was not beautiful or necessary. Maybe that’s the problem in this world today, not enough people understand there’s a difference between being a hero and being a fool.  
> PS: It almost felt like Ianto acted like he knew he was gonna die. He seemed sad and resigned and frowning, and just got that vibe. Well, in my little world he was acting like that because he DID know, because of the letter he got from the future. ;)


End file.
